


One Plus One Makes Five

by Gilmanda



Category: Original - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gothic, Romance, historical fiction - Freeform, young adult
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2454851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilmanda/pseuds/Gilmanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not easy being brandished a slave. It's even harder to adjust to the lives of the upper class. Manyara is going to find out that inconsequential happenings such as meeting Vladmir Valentine holds consequential disasters. For her and everyone she loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue:  
The common man is born either wealthy, lacking for nought or poor lacking for everything; this factor predetermines ones life here on after.  
This novel will entirely exclude racial and sexual prejudice whilst subsequently, entirely including the influence in which high society poses on us all.  
Heed my words carefully for when you feel as though happenings occur simply,nostalgia will overcome and you'll start suddenly.

Chapter 1

Decidedly Manyara concluded that living in hell in the oh-so described home of where the oh-so-despised Lucifer resided with his oh-so-loyal followers would be preferable than to live on earth-unless she was a slave there,too. The probability of Lucifer bothering his over scheduled self to focus on things such as class prejudice seemed for a lack of better words,stupid and childish. Manyara could think of a million reasons why the rich and powerful's miserable undoing would be more satisfyingly delightful that of a poor man's; as he was already in misery for seldom money equaled seldom happiness, or so she believed.  
Slavery was a case of attending to the desires of the powerful one's. Be that through cooking,house cleaning,animal tending or children tending. The latter of which to Manyara was exactly the same experience as animal tending.  
Thankfully,her primary role as a slave to her master was to cook,an artistic feat the main chef like to refer it as,in which she failed at splendidly. The incident that occurred several months prior was so ingrained in Van's,the excitable Chef's mind that the mere speculation that Manyara was to be working with the stove drove him hysterical right into the awaiting arms of his lover. A beautiful pair they would have been had the latter of the pair, the moustached,severely tanned, awaiting lover was not so much of a prat. Manyara's dark features started just a little bit whenever his appearance was accounted for in the kitchens.  
Alas Manyara spent her slave days in charge of chopping and skinning food. Which to you may resonate like it is a sound job but it was arguably the one of the most strenuously-boring jobs anybody could be charged with completing.  
'It'll be a hundred today.' Was her she first heard from the kitchens directed at as she made her journey placidly to the kitchens,having started to the day earlier than what was expected of her and what she knew of herself.  
The old kitchen was something to behold. For it was large with what were once white walls,now they have turned a greyish colour possibly due to the steam that clung to this walls through the many years. Unsurprisingly large and scattered blots of green mould decorated those same wall as a sign of the kitchens glaring ancientness. The oven for the purposes of bread making, cake baking and chicken roasting located itself on the opposite side of the kitchens entrance. And all around the large perimeter resided all of sorts objects that qualified as necessary kitchen paraphernalia ; such as stoves and counters and the large blackish with lines of grey pans and the cutlery,to name a few.  
Amara,a slave that had the mis pleasure of sharing her job beckoned her over to place in the kitchens were one hundred potatoes were waiting to be skinned.  
Amara's pale face had a permanent rosy appearance which made her features lovelier,'Master's got us all in a tickle, never seen a feast preparation this fancy in all our time here.'  
Manyara's cheek scrunched as a feeling of knowingness came over her, along with the small rumble of her stomach,seeking to be fed. 'There's a ball today is it?' She asked Amara. And the latter nodded in reply whilst reaching shortly over for two knives. 'Seems to be the talk of the house.'  
'I'm curious though, balls here at not rare and not quite as big as this one looks to become,' Manyara did a quick one eighty on the room and noticed carefully now, all the bustling that was happening. 'What makes this one so special?' She finished.  
Amara looked bemusedly at her friend,handed her one of the knives she had reached over and as they began skinning the pile of brown, big potatoes she said,'Well it's the New Years, there's always balls here at this time, but,' she leaned over and whispered to Manyara not stopping her skinning administrations'Word going round is that the people coming over are richer than the master, he wants to look good an all so is doubling the fanciness.'  
Manyara's eyes were big and highly curious'Richer folk than our master? Didn't know that existed.'  
Amara laughed a quick laughed and dipped one of newly skinned potatoes into the large basket of water. ' Oh there are richer people than the master, we have just never seen them.'  
Manyara's interest rose tenfold'Who're the big ones?' She asked not really expecting a knowledgable answer. It wasn't in their business to know entirely about the powerful one's and their status in society, evident by Manyara's ignorance at having asked the question.  
Surprisingly Amara had some answers,'Don't know many names but this big Johansson family will be coming, the grandfather was once a Vice President. There's also the D'Armondos from Italy, royalty there coming to visit London for the first time, on political and holiday business. Word going out is three of the young D'Armandos that at are coming are bachelors looking for a lady to engage here. And...-'  
'Whats gotten into you Amara, forgetting the juiciest gossip.' Said a man's voice, with traces of amusement in it.  
Amara smirked'Oh I didn't forget honey, I just saved the best for last.' She said to Desta whilst grabbing at a potato Manyara gave her to plop into the water basket.  
Desta,the young man and friend of theirs smiled at the same time in which Amara's body itched with curiosity.  
'What? What!'  
Desta and Manyara smirked in synch as Desta said to Manyara' I don't know Yara it's real juicy, shouldn't we get something for the trouble it's going to take to speak those long,exciting words.'  
'I'll complete both of y'all's work,no charge!' Manyara exclaimed without thinking out her overexcited thoughts.  
Amara and Desta in unison burst out laughing and the more sober of them,Amara, relented at seeing Manyara's so incredibly curious.  
'The Valentine's, richest family in the world will be coming. Funny thing is the head of the family, is a young bachelor perhaps also looking to be engaged.'  
*  
Letter from Victor Vincent , Receiver Vladimir Valentine  
30th Dec1862

I have enjoyed her my friend. I am also bemused at your discarding of her; for she was most assuredly a beauty. I will try my all to satisfy you with one who will enchant your difficult self,as I feel quite alone in this game without my loyal partner to share this hobby with. 

But moving on to more pressing matters- yes I'll come to the Ball if only to lend you company. I've come to find these gatherings entertaining if not slightly unnecessary. I am sure however your disdain is greater than mine and as your friend I'll be present for your sake.  
Spain is marvellous- beautiful madams ready to spread themselves for my time. Marvellous.  
Till the Ball my friend.

P.S Your specific referral to the Berlin undertaker was most useful, I thank you.

Victor Vincent  
*  
Letter from Vladimir Valentine, Receiver Victor Vincent  
31st Dec 1862

I await your arrival.

Vladimir Valentine,  
*

Letter from Violeta Vincent, Receiver Cecilia Vincent  
30th Dec 1862

Oh mother how your daughter has missed you! How's father? I feel most alone without you here to guide and instruct me on how to behave. Not that you have in any way failed to teach me the proper manners in how to present my womanly self in society . What I mean to say is that your presence would've been most comforting.  
The Ball! There isn't a woman of dignified status that I have conversed with that has not placed the ball as a topic of conversation during our numerous and honestly sometimes tedious( forgive me mother!) gatherings. Oh but I am full of excitement for Vladimir is to be there. He made this alarming but correct decision on his own accord. Didn't need anyone to notify him of his greatness and how his presence would completely magnify the eliteness of the New Year's Ball. Oh but how difficult he is of a man. I would have concluded his disregard for upper society to do with his fathers passing.And him being scared (which he is not) of the responsibilities he must on take as the head of the family. If I hadn't had the knowledge that he has always been a reclusive man! Which makes my attempts at mingling with him difficult. But oh is he handsome! And strong! And smart!  
But oh mother! Disinterested, that is what he is mostly, disinterested of me and all other potential women.  
I have not forgotten what you've taught me mother; don't give up on men, but look at though you have for the pride of being forgotten overcomes any man's anatomy. So I am to act distant and then he'll want me. We will marry after we confess our undying love for each other and have many children for your sake mother. Oh mother! What is love if not the thing that rids us of our sanity!

I am to prepare myself for another gathering so I must stop writing at once. Know that I will write to you after the ball. And know that Deidra is to be punished! For she had the cheek to tell me that I picked the God awful dresses to bring here. As you can presume I had to urgently shop for dresses.

I will write to you soon,  
Love from your darling daughter,  
Violeta Vincent


	2. The Ball and the speeches

The evening of the ball held excitement in its atmosphere, which resulted in a most joyful occasion as it was superficially visible. The slaves, tired and hungry were set into groups of whom were to serve the guests or work in the kitchens at different times so they could have grateful, well deserved intervals of rest.   
Manyara and Desta were assigned in the same group which was a shame and felt odd for the fact Amara wasn't to join them at their hour. She had been sorted into another group. It was however of no consequence her absence, Desta and Manyara enjoyed one another's company even if they were less apt to converse as well as they did when with their other friend. It didn't look like there was time of for dialogue between them anyhow,firstly; because they were slaves amongst the rich- which was in itself reason enough, yet secondly because the the act of serving wasn't one to be taken lightly. It acquires finesse and a kind of precision that insured no misfortunes were to occur, like perhaps the spilling of food on the floor, or worse the spilling of food on guests. A direct beating was what the guilty part was to receive.   
Despite all this concentration Manyara's hearing was not impaired so as she hopped from table to table serving the seated, she heard glimpses here and there conversations of the rich people folk. Based more often than not on the politics or the women's fashion, or of marriages.   
The first course had been served at all the tables by the time Amara's group finished putting the final touches on the desserts.   
Manyara had only seen Desta working like she was through opposite ends of the grand room, they had shared a smile and a look that acknowledged each other's exhaustion wholeheartedly.   
It was during the second course in which Manyara's new role was to attend to a specific table; to cater and satisfy their richly whims. Manyara didn't complainthough it was time for her break and her dinner. Desta had gone.  
So she stood silent and angry with a tucked stomach and clenched toes and a half bowed head, that allowed her to look at the people at the table without raising the attention of the people seated. She listened on mutely. 

The master being at this table was particularly striking and said a lot about who exactly he was in the presence of. Normally a man of intimidating stature and regal nature now, in the presence of his guests, he resembled a common wealthy man. Chatter circulated the concentrated table with ease and the people seemed appeased,Violeta sat beside her brother two chairs away from the end of the table, with a blue, slim gown that had the appearance of being tailored for her use only, which probably was the exact truth. Her make up was noticeable enough for you to know it was make up yet so simple looking you'd almost believe her complexion was naturally radiant without the need of cosmetics. Young girls her age similarly shared her fashion with the colour of garment changing from one to the other. They did what was expected of young women, to giggle incessantly and to show mild controlled interest in the talks being discussed as dinner progressed.  
'You must marry, young, handsome men like you!' A British woman of high status directed at the three D'Armandos' bachelors who between each other shared awkward glances, as their parents, also at the table looked on amusedly at seeing them being being talked to about such a matter. The public knowledge of their single bachelor status made them inwardly cringe. This coming from an old woman, of sixty maybe, only made the situation more embarrassing and pressuring. The single girls at the table had turned to the three, with unabashed hungry eyes that were unaccounted for as desperate through the eyes of the people at the table. Carlos, the eldest of the brothers though his duty to respond.  
'Our intentions here in England were not to look for suitable young women to marry, but to discover the complexities of your culture. As despite us being of privileged heritage our mother ' he paused to glance at his mother for a moment,' thought it best we traveled the world when we all were of age.'  
The old woman acted as not having heard what Antonio said,  
'Nonsense excuses! And if not excuses then your travelling does not impede you from searching for a young lady.Look here at Vera ,' she inclined her to the young dark girl who had now attempted to hide her face with her towel. 'What's shying away going to do to you. You didn't shy away when I found you in great conversation with James Johansson here.' If it was possible her blush would have been noticeably red and warm. Small giggles merged from here or there through the table and many of the young women either amused themselves kindly at Vera's expense or fumed with contained envy, Violeta belong to the former.  
'Please,' started off Constantina D'Armandos with a motherly smile aimed at her children,'Please continue Madame Vincent, your talking of my son's singleness. One would've inferred their delight in travelling and experiencing your so fine culture. Single young women here I believe are the majority. No?'  
'Certainly, Madame Constantina, I fear however our beauty no longer satisfies the hearts of these tough, brave young men!'   
A careful chorus of laughter commenced along the table before it was broken by a small speech from her brother, who had smiled lovingly at the company of the people .   
'Why sister, we are only but men, looking to make the most of our soon to be gone young life,' at that the all them men of table raised their glass wine in salutation to Victor's words, smiling distractedly at the interruption he continued,'How are we to be good husbands if we have not yet felt the need or want to settle. How are you to be good wives if you have not yet explored the superficial courting of men. How are we to have stories to tell our children's and grandchildren's of our adventures and misadventures' The D'Armandos brothers: Carlos, Antonio and Manuel in order of age were consenting to Victor's words as if they were sacred and silently stared at their mother as if trying to tell her 'See now mother? Listen to this smart young man that understands that young men like us have no desire to marry, but instead to have sex. And lots of it with many exotic women. Please for love of all that's good and sacred, take in his words as law!'  
'We must all find our place in this world. Even you women; men's property or not. You are individuals. Why not open a new school? For ballet and the fine arts? Why not choose to have our good fun now so later on in life we can say we did something worth conversing about. No?'  
And at it this he held the attention of the entire table and for the first time since having arrived at the hall Vladimir, richest man in the table smiled a condescending white smile that seemed entirely too genuine and riddled with a double entendre. He felt no particular interest in the conversation of marriage at hand, but had to silently applaud his best friend for his manner of saying the most indiscreet things discreetly. Victor managed to talk subtlety of sex and the want for prostitution in a way manner that seemed like he was talking of freedom and individuality. He was seconded only by Vladimir himself in his way of talking with innuendoes.   
'Oh Victor!' cried Violeta. And just like that Vladmir's smile dropped like it has never been there previously.  
'This talk of freedom inspires so much hope in the hearts of old men like us!' said the head of the D'Armandos house, who like Vladimir had kept entirely silent, not because he was a reserved man but more of an observer.   
'Makes me believe there's hope for this next generation of yours, with your talk of freedom. As you see the lines of duty and pleasurable fulfilment such as family and courting are blurred,my friends. They are blurred. And when pleasure, duty and pain mix it creates a recipe for a grander empire.'  
Tiago D'Armando was the type of man who spoke philosophically for the sake of all always teaching people a thing or two whenever he thought necessary to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading !


	3. And then there were two

Two hours later Manyara was relieved of her duty to tend to the rich. Her mind seemed to be drumming dully, which made for a painful,irritating headache;most probably because of the lack of nourishment. Her feet could not have carried her any faster into the kitchen where the half of the slaves off duty were eating scraps of food compared to what was being served in the ball room.   
The chef took one look at Manyara and her hungry stare and without a word handed her a plate with food.   
'You look half dead.' Said an incriminating voice as she moved towards Desta and Amara, quietly talking to each other . She looked back at the speaker and Adazae held an air of triumph in succeeding to win over Manyara's attention.   
'I could say the same about you,' Manyara responded to the first remark.  
Adazae nodded thoughtfully,''Course you can. You just did. But I wonder if everyone had to choose who was prettier who'd be blind enough to choose you.'   
Manyara balled her fist and suppressed her tears as the giggles and pitiful looks were directed at her. Adazae had always taken a strong dislike to her- the primary strategy she obtained to undermine Manyara was in comparing her good looks to Manyara's average ones. It was all very unsettling. Desta followed closely by Amara had already reached Manyara and Adazae when the former decided to leave with a swift turning of her body.   
Desta grabbed hold of the arm that wasn't holding the plate of food.   
'You've heard this about a million times, don't let her words win you over.' Desta said firmly to a struggling Manyara.  
'Thats the problem Desta. Words win you over like how the sea drowns a man who can't swim. Quickly and without you really knowing.'  
Amara touched Manyara's arm gripped by Desta,'You don't have anything better to do Adazae. So you choose to hurt people. Say one more thing to Manyara and I'll have a reason to hurt you.'  
With arms crossed Adazae laughed' I'm building her up, she has weak skin. Good for nothing-'  
'Everyone here is good for nothing! We are slaves, you are a slave, you are looked down upon just like me. I'm not beautiful and I am a slave, you are a beautiful and you are a slave. Makes no difference -beauty.'  
Adazae fingers were suddenly very interesting to her' Manyara that's where you are wrong. I am a slave ,yes, but men and women want me. No one wants you ,' she stood aware that the only reason Amara hand not attacked her was because Manyara prevented her from doing so,'There's the difference Manyara.' She said finishing with a smile, rubbing her nose, when her hands moved to her cheek where spit flew from Manyara's mouth. Her eyes flared with disbelief and vulnerability, she got sympathy in the form of her best friend who prepared to hit a satisfied Manyara, when Amara and Desta stood in her way. Protecting her. 

Manyara left just after being reassured by Desta of her safety whilst Amara looked worriedly at her. 'Don't follow me.' Manyara said as she left.

Now she sat on the bench outside the house, the air bitingly bitter, making her hands numb. She eat the same way she bathed herself; and desperately, afraid it'd be the last time she'd do it. The sound of loud music and chatter resonated in her ears though she at first hardly  
took notice as she cried internal tears. Those tears would have manifested into physical one if the night temperature hadn't dried her eyes. She was fifty percent sure Amara was to find her and question her state. She didn't feel eager to speak on about her weakness, aware that her lack of beauty was in fact a weakness. She was never directly called ugly by others but the fact that she was seldom looked at in a desirable manner served to solidify her ugliness. In society you were either beautiful and rich or beautiful and poor. The ugly and the poor were susceptible to ridicule from other slaves. 

Subtle footsteps were approaching the bench and before looking at Amara Manyara had already shouted' No you need to leave. I want to be alone!'  
'I can certainly do that if only you'd tell me why my presence is so undesirable?' That wasn't Amara's voice.  
Vladimir held an enquiring air. Manyara stuttered,' Oh no I wasn't talking to you! I mean Sir I thought you were someone else. I'm sorry you found me here, feel free to punish me for my tone.'  
'You were distressed before I arrived here and you are distressed now. I will not punish you. Even if anybody else would have done so.' Vladmir whispered and his words held no threat or double meaning. A first.   
'Thank you, thank you- I mean no please punish me! Punish me for my tone, punish me for being in your presence for punish me for my ugliness, punish me for my existence.'  
' And how would you like to be punished?'  
' Beat me! Steal the air from me. Punish me!'  
Vladimir lit up a cigar,'My idea of punishment does not lean towards the physical aspect of it.'  
Manyara was confused and uttered 'What?',suddenly frustrated with the man she had tended to at the table. She was searching for an escape, to alleviate her oppressed pain through physical punishment, and this individual with an enviable ease of existing simply rebuffed her offers to be hurt by his hand.  
' I will not hurt you.' Was what Vladimir replied. He remembered her. And was astonished at her desperation. In situations where slaves had the privilege to make conversation with him on all occasions the females had shown fear with suppressed desire for him, he recognised this immediately and recognised them as unworthy. Now her, she was mystery. She wasn't afraid of him, not in the way she should be, that was made clear at some point during the dinner.  
'If you won't hurt me why are you still here ?'  
Vladimir flicks of over at Manyara,'Same reason you are; I'm attempting to escape my luxurious life for a moment.'  
'Luxurious?' Manyara questioned, Vladimir seemed to become overcome with amusement.  
'It means rich life-'  
'Then you aren't here for the same reason I'm here. I'm not rich-  
'No you're not are you.',he didn't miss a beat,'Tell me,' he began,'if it were possible for you to not be slave and instead a valued and worthy member of society by someone decreeing you no longer a slave,what would you do?'  
Manyara took a while to answer and started toying with her fingers and chewing her lips. She indeed had given thought to what she would've like to have been doing, if her slave status never existed. Her mother was a stay at home, and her father a sales man. Ever since a young girl, Manyara had dreamed of knowing how to read. Something her family couldn't provide the means for . Being of no educated background on either side. This knowledge had made her mind even more stubborn, interestingly in her quest to learn and read, she had never shared this with Amara or Desta. Afraid they'll think she's naive. This man, surveying her as one does when looking at a funny rodent,didn't know her.   
'I would love to be a teacher, and learn how to read and write so I can write adventure stories about little girls who became strong princesses.'  
With eye brows raised Vladimir considered her ambitious and more than just a little idiotic dream. She should have been like the other slaves who's dreams were of more food and bath water.  
'I could make that happen for you.' He offered.  
For a second Manyara's heart stuttered, then started beating at full force as a wave of indignation came over her.  
'You wouldn't do that for me-'  
'Why wouldn't I.'  
'Because! You are not a good man. You use your money to get what you want. You don't value good work. And you are one of the people that has made me a slave! You are a liar. And you think I'm stupid to have dreams, but I don't get to choose if I dream. The dreams choose me. You know why? Because they keep me alive. They make me believe I can be smart and beautiful and strong too. You don't get that, because you don't need to dream, because you don't work for things. You have them just like that! It's not fair, why shouldn't I be you. And be rich with my best friends. You like being rich so you'll continue to let me be a slave. That's why you wouldn't do it.' Manyara didn't speak with tears or reluctance, for this man was her superior, she knew, yet the feeling of adrenaline that came from her heart resuscitating awakened a sense of dignity and righteousness in her.   
Five years it had been since Vladimir had smiled a true smile, with no bad intentions as much was possible. Here it was,a girl no more than seventeen years of age, with a weak body and an average beauty who held all the will to become greater. She had ambition. Ambitions. She had things to say and do. She had the opportunity to lash out at her offenders and she did so without hesitation. Vladimir liked her for she was something he could construct and build and resuscitate. There was a woman hidden underneath the weak body,a woman with confidence,a pride to compared to a lions and the will of the richest men. She didn't lie and she didn't claim slavery a bad thing; she claimed her being a slave a bad thing. Oh how she was beautiful. He beheld her and beheld her until he decided he was to make this average slave into an important woman. And when she became everything she had dreamed of being he'd have the choice of destroying her or loving her. And Vladimir wasn't much of a lover, in all the right senses.  
'I will make your dreams true,'he said honestly,'I am at your mercy to do as you'd like.' A lie.  
'I can't leave my friends here to go with you.' Manyara said mostly to herself, almost unaware of Vladimir being there. The idea of him granting her a wish for the sake of kindness stroked her as naive. Yet the disappointment of slavery wouldn't differ here or there with him if he was to back track on his words. It appeared as though pain, could no longer be felt more severely elsewhere. For pain had filled up it's pan inside her with a lid on it. The pan boiled continuously but the lid never rocked over enough to spill the pain. It lay in the pan contained, concentrated.   
Asking Amara to come with her will not be easy.  
'My friends must come with me, if you want to make my dreams true.'  
Vladimir looked annoyed at her,'I don't care much for your friends-'  
'You don't care about me either, I know it .'  
An appropriate response to her interrupting was him would be to penalise with a smack for retribution at her callousness. Something however, in her pathetic resolution kept him calm,serene and curiously watchful.   
'No I don't care much for you either, you are a slave still, I don't foresee my self caring either when that status has been eradicated either. What astonishes me is the right you think you have in demanding of me things you don't deserve. I wonder have I lost my nerve? Or have you lost your common sense?'-The gentle onslaught on her neck came as a surprise.- ' I could beat you into oblivion right now, I would said nothingness but that is what you already are. So oblivion it is.'  
A slap. And then two pair of eyes looking unsuspectingly at each other.  
'You watch what you say about me bastard. You watch how you talk with a woman. Your mother didn't teach you that. You want to beat me, do it, I never believed your promises .If I'm nothing so are you. Why and how? Well I have the same right to see you as nothing also. Nothing but a rich man, with a stupid reason for existing.'  
'It amuses me, the way in which you are trying to so offend me. Unfortunately there's a wall of indifference built around my body so that slap and that verbal onslaught where nothing short of amusing.'  
Vladimir stroked her cheek with a long finger, 'In this game of slave and master I win. Not because I am rich and you are poor. Or because I am healthy and you are not. Instead because I am incapable of feeling whilst you feel everything, little slave. That's your ultimate down fall. You feeling.'  
Manyara eyes held water, her teeth clenched so tightly she was afraid they'd disintegrate. Her hand was ready for another attack at his face. His resolute stance kept her transfixed on how she was capable of rolling through emotions like how a pig rolled in dirty mud. The dreams of escaping lay dead, the dread of telling Amara and Desta no longer existed, all that was left was a feeling so fierce it kept her paralysed.   
'Look at it destroying you right now.' Vladimir remarked.'Look at it's strange beauty.'  
His eyes drifted from Manyara for a second before he said,'Well my darling slave my cigar is all finished and my talking has given me much to think upon. I must enter the land of the rich. While you return to nothingness. You'll see me again I'm sure. Farewell darling slave.'  
With a look of pleasure and a bowed head as a mocking sign of respect,Vladimir left. The tip of Manyara's tongue was oozing blood when she went back to Amara and Desta, from biting it so hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again !

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! For you to get here to the bottom notes means you've given my story a try. Which to me is crazy and yet I'm so thankful! I hope you'll stick with me and this weird story and hopefully enjoy the ride of me telling Manyara's story. A character whom which I love and hate.


End file.
